


Waiting For Night To End

by Elise_Madrid



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 14:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Madrid/pseuds/Elise_Madrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is light-years away when Kirk "dies" on Veridian III.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For Night To End

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published March 2004 in Kindle My Heart.
> 
> Artwork by the very talented A-Melancholy-Dream.

The ship was a reconfigured Federation type 10 shuttlecraft, perfected over the years until he had exactly what he needed to travel alone amid the wide expanses of space. It was large enough to comfortably live in when the need arose, but small enough, at a little less than ten meters, to hide from the curious.

He’d christened it the _Gnut,_ \+ after another spacefarer whose story his t’hy’la had once related to him. His father had not approved the naming, seeing it as yet another manifestation of his uneasy grasp on reality. But the loss of a beloved companion was not unknown to Spock, and he’d remembered the sorrow in his lover’s voice as he recalled the tale.

How many years ago that had been. Sarek, the symptoms of the illness that would take his life not yet manifested, had attempted to sway him into remarriage. The ship had been an escape in more ways than one. Often, he would seek its comforting interior and attempt to still the emotions stirred to life by his father’s insistence. The war that still raged within him had its roots in that time.

But the _Gnut_ was a good ship. It had served him well for many years when escape into space was his only respite. Now that he was planet bound, he particularly enjoyed his time spent within its sturdy shell. He could, for a while, lose himself in his work as he tested its systems and restocked its supplies. He’d learned the hard way that a reliable means of escape was essential for anyone who dared live among those not his own kind. So this task, done once a fortnight, was one of his small pleasures.

While the computer ran a check on the navigational systems, he worked on the water filtration equipment. The water had a slightly metallic taste and he wanted to have it corrected by day’s end. An hour later, satisfied with his work, he powered down the ship. In the semidarkness of the emergency back-up lights, he made his way out.

The wind had kicked up and clouds were building to the south when Spock exited the large barn-like structure that housed his shuttle. He glanced at the darkening sky. It would rain soon. With a tug, he pulled his cloak tightly closed and headed for his dwelling. The breeze brought the smell of the tillanta bushes that edged his property, their bright yellow blooms waving briskly in the fast-rising storm. They reminded him of the gladiolas that had once grown along his Terran home so many light-years away. Light-years in distance, black years in time; how far he had come from that bright and shining past, even Spock didn’t know. He turned away from the spot of color and hurried on.

Mizar Two was a beautiful planet, very Earth-like. And the climate in this particular location was much like that of San Francisco. He’d often thought that was why he had picked it. But times like these made him long for a desert-dry wind that could seer away any thought of what he had lost. The planet did have one thing in its favor: its inhabitants were Vulcanoid, so his appearance did not betray him. But it was not a member of the Federation. Its technology was such that it would not be for centuries to come.

When he had left Romulus, almost three years before, he had vowed to forever remove himself from the sphere of intergalactic intrigue. Unwilling to return to the Federation, he had pulled up the star-charts and looked for a place of exile. He had found it on this pre-industrial planet. Its people were barely beginning to pull themselves from their own dark ages. Here, he strove for the serenity, if not the happiness, which had eluded him since his bondmate’s disappearance.

He pushed back the sadness that engulfed him whenever he thought of Jim. After seventy-eight years it had become habit, and almost easy. For what was sorrow compared to the black shadow of bitterness and despair that was his constant companion? Kirk had often remarked at Spock’s innocence of the darker shades of human, and Vulcan, nature. He wondered what his lover would think of his solution to escape the ever-present reminders of that lost innocence.

It had been the very last of that innocence that had allowed him to refuse Picard’s offer of a way home. Though Spock had a ship, Picard’s presence would have made reentry into the Federation easier. But Spock had still believed in the cause he worked for. Romulans and Vulcans had once been one people. They could be again. But after his betrayal by Senator Pardek, his Romulan contacts had turned against him, afraid to be pulled down in the same trap as their government slowly tightened the noose in their quest to capture him. His features were different enough that going his way alone would have been impossible, and Spock had barely managed to escape with his life. But innocence had not been his only loss, just the last of many.

So he had settled on this planet. The people of the area accepted him as a strange but harmless dabbler in the medical arts. They came to him for the remedies he created from the herbs and minerals he gathered. McCoy would have been amused, he was sure.

He checked the sky once more and realized the clouds were moving in a bit more rapidly than he had first supposed. When he looked back down, off in the distance, where the hills gave way to a small pass, he could make out a couple trudging toward his house. The woman carried a small pail clutched close to her body. The man held a more bountifully packed basket. As they neared, he recognized the couple as being from the neighboring village. He had treated their son for the wasting sickness that had decimated the area.

He waited patiently for them to approach. When they reached the wooden fence that surrounded his home, they stopped and bowed respectfully.

“Welcome,” Spock called out as he advanced toward the couple.

Almost timidly, the man collected the pail from his wife, opened up the gate and walked the ten steps to Spock’s side. “These are for you, Master Spock, in gratitude for our son’s life.”

He took the food willingly. The aroma from the pail made his mouth water. It would make a most fitting meal with the fresh-baked bread Spock could see nestled within the basket. “Thank you. I hope he is doing well.”

“Yes, Master. Very well,” The young man eagerly replied.

“Do you require anymore of the elixir I prepared?”

“No, thank you, Master.” The man glanced up, worry tightening his features. “We must be on our way. The rains come and night is falling.”

“You may not make it in time.”

“We will make it.” He turned and grasped his wife’s arm, hurrying her along. “Come, Malina. We must hurry. Goodbye, Master Spock. Many thanks,” he threw over his shoulder as he and his wife scurried away.

Spock gave them a dubious look but did not argue. He did not relish the company, anyway. He had little in common with these people. As the years had passed, he’d noticed his withdrawal from life, but had been unable, or unwilling, to do anything about it. And there were still those who feared what they did not understand. They were not the first of his clients to avoid his presence when not needed. With his packages of food, he turned toward the house.

He reached the porch just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Entering, he hung his cloak on the peg behind the door and deposited the food on the kitchen table. He lit the lantern placed on its surface and, with the darkness chased from his small abode, set about restarting the fire that had burned down in the stone hearth.

He found the embers still glowed within its depths and the flames caught with little effort. Spock dusted off his hands and moved to stand before one of the tiny windows that fronted the dwelling. The glass was ill-made, the procedure to create flawless panes not yet discovered. It made the outside look dim and blurry and Spock felt his aloneness that much more. Yet he continued to stand there, watching the way the water streamed down the window, and failed to stay the memory of a similar view he had shared with his lover so many years past....

 

_Cool arms encircled his waist from behind. “Is it raining again?”_

_Spock clasp the human’s hands with his own, but didn’t turn from the view that mesmerized him. “Does it not always?”_

_Kirk chuckled. “Isn’t that the reason we live here? Come on, Spock, admit it. You love the rain.”_

_“Never.” It was a running joke between them. Who would have believed that a man born and bred on the furnace that was Vulcan, would have such a fascination with rain? Spock turned in his lover’s arms. “I was under the impression that we lived in San Francisco because of Star Fleet.”_

_“Hmm, no.” Kirk reached up to begin lightly kissing Spock’s lips and face. “That’s not it at all.”_

_“No?” Spock returned the labial caresses and his hands settled on Kirk’s buttocks. He gently squeezed through the soft fabric of his lover’s robe, at the same time pulling Kirk’s body against his own._

_“No. I just like what the rain does to you.” Kirk pushed open Spock’s gown and brought his head down to gently nip at lover’s neck and chest._

_Spock drew in his breath when Kirk’s tongue flicked out to lick at a nipple. “And what does the rain do to me?” he gasped._

_A cool hand insinuated itself under his robe and settled on his quickly filling cock. “This.”_

 

The crash of thunder startled him. He mentally shook himself and damped down the sudden stir of rage that threatened to slip its traces. He often wondered who or what it was that had so angered him, that had started the inferno growing; the Federation, his father...Jim? Or perhaps, the universe that had conspired to find him alone. Whatever its cause, it frequently rose to inundate him at the slightly provocation, destroying the hard-won calm that was his only weapon against despair.

He returned to the kitchen area. From the cupboard he removed a small bowl and some utensils. He carried the pail over to the fireplace and settled himself on the raised seat of the hearth. Carefully pulling out the fireplace crane, he slipped the container onto it by its handle.

The heat felt good after the outside chill. He leaned against the warming stones of the chimney and let his head rest against the wall. The years and his half-Terran biology were finally beginning to tell. He tired more easily now. And his joints hurt when it was cold or damp. It would ease his aching body to relax a few minutes while his dinner heated.

The blast of white light that tore through his mind dropped him to his knees. He felt his consciousness expand out as the blaze laid bare the shadowy corners of his soul, and in that dark place where Kirk had resided a beacon now called to him.

_Jim? JIM?_ He could feel his lover, alive and well across the light-years. But why did he not answer? Spock stumbled to him feet. He managed to grab his cloak as he made his way drunkenly out the door and into the rainy night.

He slipped more than once in his haste to get to the ship. The darkness made the path treacherous. But wherever Kirk was, Spock’s only thought was to get to him. As he pulled open the large back doors of the shelter, a surge of adrenaline ripped through him. Kirk was afraid or excited, Spock couldn’t tell which. The bond was gathering strength now that its long sleep was over; but, oh, so slowly. Kirk could not hear him; did not know that Spock was on his way. Spock fought against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him and managed to get inside the ship. He slipped into the pilot’s chair and the engines came alive at a touch of the controls. He was airborne and heading out into space within minutes.

Once away from the planet, he set the controls on automatic. His hands were shaking as he plugged in the coordinates that he unerringly knew would take him to his bondmate. But he needed the concentration of meditation to reach his lover. He sank to his knees and, head bowed, spiraled inward, trying to send his thoughts down the dusty path that was their bond.

_Jim! Jim, please, t’hy’la, you must answer me. Jim!_ Spock’s eyes rolled back as he pushed himself to the brink. The distance was so far. Time dragged as the ship raced across the galaxy, yet Spock remained fixed on his objective. The light was slowly getting brighter. Soon, Jim would hear him. Soon, they would be one once more.

The agony that flared through his mind and body caught him unaware and he toppled over to come to rest on his side. He doubled up into a fetal position, fighting the pain as he strove to reach his lover. He could hear noises, now. A voice, not his own or Kirk’s. He desperately tried to pull Kirk’s attention away from it. _Jim, I am here. You must hear me!_

Spock grabbed his head with both hands. The pain was getting worse. And he was getting so cold. Sorrow and pain and a dread barely held at bay flooded through their bond. _Do not be afraid, t’hy’la. I am here. Oh, Jim, please!_ Suddenly, he was there, inside his love; in that place he thought never to know again.

_Spock?_ The thought was weak as Kirk’s side of the bond slowly opened and allowed the lovers to once more meet.

_You must come with me, t’hy’la. It is time. I have been so alone. You cannot leave me now._

_Where are you?_

Spock pulled back, leaving the glowing filament of their bond to lead Kirk to him. Stillness, and then a slow permeation of his senses as the essence of the cherished human filled his soul. _Jim, I have missed you so much. Welcome home, beloved._ With those thoughts, his mind closed in on itself and its precious burden.

Surprise, and then overpowering joy as James Kirk let go of the last ties to his broken body and two words slipped past his lips.

“Oh, my.”

^^^^^

Spock opened his eyes and became slowly aware of his surroundings. The cabin lights had dimmed when no motion was detected for a length of time. He struggled to a sitting position. The movement made him dizzy and he closed his eyes until the room stopped spinning. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet. He stumbled over to the controls and checked that he was still on course. Everything was as it should be. They would make Veridian III in two days.

They. Such a simple word. And yet one Spock found himself savoring. He had always known Kirk wasn’t dead. But _where_ he was Spock had never been able to ascertain. Wherever it had been, his lover was miraculously back. But Spock could not hear Kirk. Unfortunately, that had lasted only seconds as Kirk’s katra had leapt from his own body to Spock’s. But it was sufficient. He knew that Kirk was with him, their souls one. His lover’s thoughts were a subtle tune that played in the background of his mind, and the place that had been a cold, dark emptiness just hours before was now filled with the light that only one such as James Kirk could emit.

With a satisfied sigh, Spock turned to more pressing matters. He was coated in mud from his mad dash and subsequent fall into the morass that had surrounded his home. He began unbuttoning his tunic as he headed toward the back of the ship. It had originally held a complement of four, so Spock had been able to be generous in his allotment of space for the sleeping quarters and facilities. Entering the bathroom, he slipped out of his clothes and into the shower stall. It had been years since he had used it. On Mizar, he had kept strictly to the lifestyle of the planet. The scalding hot water felt good on his body.

Afterwards, dressed in a black tunic and pants, he settled himself at the control console and reestablished the computer’s link to its host on Vulcan. He waited patiently for any new data to download before starting his task. In three years the Federation had added a multitude of newly discovered worlds to their database. It would take time, but he would find what he was looking for.

So many worlds. He discarded those too close to the Federation. He needed one far from the prying eyes of Starfleet. Nor could it be inhabited. A dead, airless world would be ideal, but he would take what he could get.

The data continued to scroll by and Spock felt an odd calm settle on him, an almost happiness that seemed to fight against the man he had become. Light and laughter had been missing from his life for so long, it was as if he feared its return. He would ever be Jim Kirk’s bondmate. But what else was he now? And could the embittered old man of Mizar Two ever again be Spock of Vulcan?

He frowned, rejecting the idea. Kirk was with him. He could do anything. He concentrated once again on his work while several hours passed. He was surprised when the automatic course change kicked in. He looked up and, noting the time, realized he was hungry. He never had gotten to his meal on Mizar Two. The galley was large and contained everything one would need for an extended space voyage. He put together a meal and returned to his seat to continue his perusal of Federation star-charts.

By the time he prepared for sleep, he had found the perfect place.

^^^^^

The small craft rode the currents of air as it skimmed barely above the surface of Veridian III. Spock did not wish to be discovered by the swarm of Federation ships that hovered over the broken remains of the _Enterprise-E’s_ primary hull, looking for all the world like worker bees around their dying queen. He waited until planet nightfall before approaching the site of Kirk’s grave.

He landed the ship as close as he could to the cairn of rocks that marked Kirk’s resting place. Minutes passed as he sat staring out the ship’s forward window. During the trip, the still new presence deep in his mind had been enough to push away any thought of what Kirk’s body might now look like. Memories of the last time he had seen it, vibrantly alive, would now be replaced with those of its shattered remains. He didn’t know how he would get through the next hours.

Taking a deep breath, Spock forced himself to rise, to disengage the door lock and wait as it swung silently open. A cool night breeze rushed into the small spaces of the ship and Spock shivered. He grabbed the tarp he had placed next to the door and resolutely started toward the grave site.

He carefully made his way through the darkness. He hadn’t brought a light, but Verdian III’s moon hung bright in the sky. His steps faltered as he drew close, but at last he stood before the makeshift sepulcher. He felt a tightness in his chest. He gasped as his legs buckled and he found himself on his knees in the dirt. Hesitantly, one stone at a time, he began to uncover his lover’s body.

It was harder than he had ever imagined it to be.

Tears coursed down his face by the time Spock slowly walked back to the ship. With each step he fought to keep upright, trying to find a counterbalance to the precious burden in his arms. He held it tightly against his body and no longer felt the cold. The chill that had swirled around him as he pulled Kirk’s body from its place among the rocks was no match for the sorrow that had scoured his soul as he went about his sacred duty.

_It is only the wrecked temple that once housed his indomitable spirit._ He could almost believe it, but for the pictures that would not stop their macabre dance across his mind’s eye; Kirk, as he had appeared on the day he had taken command of the _Enterprise;_ the many times they had worked out together and Spock had become aware how very fine his captain’s body was; the night Spock was finally to know what it was to hold the human close as their bodies rocked to a shared passion. But more, the gentle touches that had proclaimed Kirk’s affection as friend, desire as lover, love as life’s companion.

Finally, the ship became more than just a ghostly form in the night. The door to the vessel opened at his approach, and he was moving towards the small storage area that would house the body when he heard his name called from outside.

“Mr. Spock, we know you’re in there. Please don’t make it anymore difficult than it already is.”

He knew that voice. Resigned, he gently deposited Kirk’s body and then returned to the doorway. Just outside, Captain Jean Luc Picard waited, two security men, phasers drawn, at his side.

^^^^^

They sat facing each other in the ship’s galley. Though Spock had been forced to confront the _Enterprise’s_ captain outside, Picard had been gracious enough to continue their conversation away from the curious stares of the guards.

“Do you know what you’re doing, man?” Picard chastised.

“I do what I must.” Spock stared toward where his lover’s body was housed. He could not see it, but was very aware of its presence. He locked down the wave of resentment that crashed over him.

“But you won’t tell me why? Why you need his body?”

“It is mine, Picard. By any law known to the Federation. Vulcan is very explicit in regards to the rights one bondmate has over the other.” Again, a flare of anger tugged at his controls.

“Starfleet may not see it that way.”

Spock turned sharply. “I do not care how Starfleet sees it. It is my right to claim the body of my bondmate.”

“Then why sneak in here like a thief in the night?” Picard’s manner was almost hostile.

Spock studied him a moment. There was something here he had not counted on. It seemed the human had formed an attachment to Kirk. Spock almost smiled. He should have known. It took much to withstand his t’hy’la’s magnetism. Off hand, he could think of no one who had successfully done it. For good or ill, Kirk had always managed to affect all who met him.

“Whatever you may think of me, you must know that I could never do anything to...that man. I could sooner do it to myself.”

Wouldn’t you? You forget, I was at your wedding.”

“Wedding? I don’t know what it is you believe you attended, but it was assuredly _not_ my wedding.”

“It was thirty-five years ago. But I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was surprised after reading how you continued to insist that James Kirk was still alive. I was just a lieutenant, but I had been assigned as attaché to Admiral Kirk.”

“Admiral Kirk?” Spock was momentarily baffled. “Ah, you speak of Samuel.”

“Samuel? Well, yes, though I would have found it difficult to think of the man in terms of his first name.”

Spock rose and went to stand by the opening of the shuttle. He looked out onto the darkened landscape. Dawn was still hours away. “As the son of Jim’s nephew, he became part of my clan and therefore allowed attendance to all clan functions. But he was not there for my wedding, Picard.”

“I saw you there, standing next to the bride.”

“Yes, as my cousin’s representative. It was his daughter you saw standing next to me. Since my cousin was unable to attend, I stood in his place.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What you saw was the wedding only under Terran terms. On Vulcan, there would have been a private affair with only those essential to the ritual present. But because my cousin’s daughter was to bond with a human, it was decided, as it had been for my parents, that Terran custom would be upheld. Their true uniting was many months later.”

“All right. It wasn’t your wedding. I suppose I could have been mistaken. It’s not as if your marital status would be bandied about. But that doesn’t change the fact that you want to hijack the body of a hero of the Federation, but you don’t want to tell me why.”

Spock turned to look at Picard. “Have we not both given more than our fair share? Was his death not enough to fulfill any obligations we might have still owed? I have lived without him for over seventy-five Terran years. I will live without him no longer.”

“He’s dead, Mr. Spock,” Picard gently responded.

“I am well aware of that fact, Picard,” Spock answered as he returned to his study of the desolate landscape outside. A wistful smile crossed his face and then was gone. “He lives in me. As long as I live, so shall he. Do not deny me this, Captain.”

“I may not have a choice in the matter.”

“I think you do. You are, as I noted at our last meeting, very much like him. He would have found a way; I am confident you can also, if that is what you wish.” Spock returned to his seat, ready to use his final card. “I remember the meld we shared when you allowed me the chance to touch my father’s thoughts. I am willing now to return the favor.”

The human looked suddenly wary. “What do you have in mind?”

“The man you met, yet knew for such a short time, is here.” Spock touched his forehead. “Everything he was, everything he knew. I would give you the opportunity to truly know him. Perhaps then you will realize how much of this would be his wish, as well.”

Hesitation slowly gave way to excitement in Picard’s eyes and Spock knew he had won. In this, also, Picard shared a likeness to Kirk. For a certain type of human the meld was addictive, an irresistible journey to yet another place unknown. Kirk had reveled in them. _Another taboo I break. How many more will there be?_

Spock settled his fingers on the meld points of the human’s face and for the first and only time, allowed another the precious gift of his bondmate’s thoughts.

^^^^^

The planet Vulcan slowly filled the viewing screen of the small craft. Strange how little this place now meant to him. Once, it had cradled everyone he held dear. Now, all were gone; either dead, or scattered through the galaxy as each discovered their own destiny.

Spock powered down the engines as he waited for verification from Vulcan Central. His people would not ask where he had been for the last three years. Nor would they ask what had instigated his return. For probably the first time in his life, he was thankful for their studied indifference.

He used the time to check his level of supplies. It would save a great deal of time if he had a list prepared when he landed. But what did one take into oblivion?

Ten minutes later a flash on his board signaled his flight path. He put aside his work and grasping the controls, eased his ship down into the atmosphere. The dark of space slowly gave way to the reddish hues of Vulcan. Before long he was flying past the city of Shi’kahr and onward to the house of his ancestors.

He cut speed until he was hovering over the fortress-like structure. No one came forth to greet him as he lightly landed the ship within its high walls. Its master was home, but the large edifice was as dispassionate in that regard as the rest of the planet was. Unhooking himself from his seat, Spock opened the door to the shuttle and walked out.

He was alone. He knew that, instinctively. Yet plants still lived in the pots and flower beds first brought to life by his mother over a century ago. Spock brushed his hand against the roses that lined the walkway, their scent reinforcing his memory of her. And the setting sun was yet another reminder, for evenings had been her favorite time. Everything was as it had been when he had left three years before. And when he reached the front door, it swung gracefully open at his touch.

“Lights, lowest setting.”

A soft glow suffused the house as Spock made his way to his father’s study. He opened up the double doors and was brought up short in surprise. He walked to the center of the room, slowly turning to take in the room’s metamorphosis.

Sarek had always been partial to the dark richness of yon-ek’zerpan, the mahogany-like wood of the northern regions. Balanced by heavily draped windows and a deep-pile carpet, Sarek’s study had always reminded Spock of a dark cavern, the quintessential Hall of the Mountain King. Taken by his mother to a production of Grieg’s Peer Gynt when he was but six years of age, forever after that vividly brought to life scene would revisit him whenever forced into his father’s den. But all that had been banished from this room.

Walls of a soothing cream surrounded the cushioned sofas and furniture made from Earth’s lightest woods. Linen sheers diffused the garden lights turning on outside, giving the room an aura of warmth. Pictures were scattered throughout; of himself, as a boy and as a man, of his parents, as they had looked in his childhood and in those days when he still knew joy, and of Jim.

Spock approached the large, neat desk tucked in one corner of the room and lowered himself onto the chair. To one side of the desktop was the first picture he and Kirk had ever taken together. They had been on shore leave and newly lovers. Kirk had insisted and Spock had been unable to refuse. Dressed informally, they gazed out of the picture, their shared happiness readily apparent.

Who had done this? With a shaking hand, Spock turned on the computer terminal. Immediately, the screen was filled with the image of his mother. Her hair was pure white, and the dress she wore Spock remembered as one from her last years. She smiled the smile that had never failed to enchant, and began to speak.

“Spock.” The image seemed to look right into him, dredging up resentments and pain best forgotten.

“I hope it has been a long time since we last saw each other. I hope it’s been many, many years, and that your father has had a long and fulfilling life. I’d hate to imagine that he would follow me too soon. Because, since you’re watching this, it means that I am dead, that _he_ is dead.” She seemed to stumble over the last word. “And chances are, you’re alone; that your beloved Jim is gone, too.”

Amanda hesitated, as if afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Are you all right, Spock? Have you learned to deal with that loss? I hope so, my son. I don’t think Jim would want you to grieve too long.” She shook her head. “This is so strange. I saw the two of you this morning at breakfast. Yet here I am, as if I was already dead and buried. But I wanted you to have something to remind you of me, something that only I could give you.”

Remind him of her? How could she have thought he could ever forget her? Had he failed so completely to convey his love and gratitude for what she had done for him? For the love she had so generously granted not only to him, but also to the man he had taken as his own?

“Your father and I argued about this, you know.”

Her words recaptured his attention.

“Well, I argued, at least. Your father just listened, told me I was being illogical, and then allowed me to do exactly what I wanted. It’s an old tradition on Vulcan. As on Earth, women tend to outlive their husbands most of the time, so it became a custom for the widow to redo the home to the heir’s liking. Do you? Like it, I mean? I’ve only done the plans for the study so far. But I have the rest of it all in my head. It will be the first thing I do as soon as I get back from visiting your aunt.” She smiled again. “I think your father will probably say I’m leaving a lot of work for the executor, but I don’t care. It’s your house now, Spock. I want you to be happy here.”

Spock stopped the recording and closed his eyes. The study was all that was ever done. Amanda never made it to her sister’s, much less back to Vulcan. The explosion that had torn the ship apart as she traveled to Earth had left nothing to bring back.

And so had begun the disagreements that had finally built an insurmountable wall between Spock and his father. Because when her body had been lost to them, so had her soul.

He clenched his fists and brought his head down to rest against the cool surface of the desk. _Do not give in to this. Not now. It is too late, too late for any of it. She is gone, so many years gone. And now, so is he._

Slowly, his hands opened and he straightened into the chair. He hit the button to restart the message.

“But whatever you do, don’t hide from the world. You have so much to give, so much still waiting to happen to you. Don’t give that up. I love you, Spock. Don’t ever forget that. Wherever I am, here, or in that silly rock with your father, I’ll always love you.” She pressed her lips together and he could see her eyes fill with unshed tears. “Goodbye, my son. May you live long and prosper.”

The screen went dark and all Spock could do was sit there as his fingers gouged marks into the wood of the desk. It took everything he had to finally stand up and walk away without turning the computer terminal into a pile of rubble.

He began to pace the room. _No, mother. No ‘silly rock’ for you. Sarek had other plans._

From the day he discovered that his mother’s katra had not been retrieved, his anger at Sarek had only grown. Jim tried to help. At first patiently trying to reason with Spock, his lover’s forbearance had finally run out. They had argued terribly. And though it had only caused a temporary rift, it was one more thing he had laid at his father’s feet. Jim’s disappearance eight months later had destroyed any chance of Spock and his father ever making peace.

^^^^^

Spock sat in the middle of the bed, his breathing deepening as he drifted up from his meditation. He had needed it, desperately. His mother’s tape had been difficult, to be sure. But the worst had been reentering the room he had shared with Jim.

After completing his tour of the reconfigured study, Spock had left for the kitchen and a small meal. Packing the supplies into the shuttle took most of the evening, and it was only after receiving word that the rest would not be delivered for several hours did he decide that there was only one place he would wish to spend the remainder of the night. Yet it had been hard. The room had once held so much joy.

It had been the room of his childhood, made over by his mother for his and Kirk’s frequent visits. After her death, they had stayed on. Spock had wished to return to their home on Earth, but Kirk convinced him to remain. For some reason, his lover believed Sarek needed them there. And though Spock hadn’t seen it, he acquiesced.

It was here Kirk received the invitation to be a guest aboard the _Enterprise-B_ on her maiden voyage. Spock wanted to accompany him, but once again his lover had put Sarek’s supposed needs above their own. He insisted that Spock remain on Vulcan. After all, he would be gone for only six days.

Spock slowly ran his hands over the soft comforter and remembered the last time he had seen his lover as Kirk prepared for his departure to Earth. Just as now, the sun had yet to start its rise above the distant horizon....

 

_He opened his eyes as his hand met empty space across the wide expanse of the bed. The light in the bathroom was on. Spock sat up, and pulled the covers up over his shoulders. His time-sense told him it was three-thirty._

_“Did I wake you?” Kirk asked as the door opened and the human walked out, already dressed._

_Spock gave a slight shrug. “Your absence did. It always does.”_

_Kirk approached the bed and sat next to him. “Can’t be helped. If it makes you feel any better, I’m going to miss you just as much.” He ruffled Spock’s bangs, playfully. “Tell you what. I’ll bring you something from Earth. What would you like?”_

_“Only your safe return.”_

_“You’ve got it. Nothing else?”_

_Spock thought a moment. “Will you be staying at our home?”_

_“Of course. Let me guess, your lyre.”_

_“Though that would be appreciated, I was thinking more of my work. There are several discs on the left hand side of my desk...” he trailed off._

_Kirk gave him a troubled look. “I thought you were going to let that go.”_

_Spock bit his lip, his head lowering. “There is no reason for your disquiet.”_

_“No reason?” Kirk bolted up and began to pace. “Isn’t it being illegal reason enough? Besides the fact that it’s downright dangerous?”_

_“I would never do anything to jeopardize the safety of the Federation. Surely you realize this.” He looked up and followed his lover’s progress from the bed to a nearby chair and back again._

_“I know that. But do you honestly believe that would make any difference if they were to find out?” Kirk stopped at the foot of the bed. “Why do you insist on continuing to study this? Spock, it’s been ten years.”_

_He looked away, unable to hold Kirk’s gaze. The pain was still there, for both of them. “I do not totally understand my...obsession with it. Perhaps because it is so much a part of who I am now, **what** I am now.”_

_Kirk was suddenly again sitting at his side. The human’s hands grasped tightly around Spock’s biceps. “Don’t say that! You make it sound like you’re some sort of freak. You’re the same man you were before, the same man I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.”_

_“No, Jim, I am not the same. Yes, I remember everything that happened...before.” He brought his hand up to gently touch Kirk’s face. “I remember you. Us. But there is a difference, one I cannot define. Perhaps that is what draws me back to the research time and again. I feel there is something there I must know.”_

_Kirk brought his hands up and took Spock’s in his. “In every way that matters, you’re the same. Don’t you think I would have noticed?” He smiled and leaned forward to look up into Spock’s eyes. “Hey, I live up there, too, you know. ‘My thoughts to your thoughts.’ Remember?”_

_“Then why do I feel that there is a difference?” Spock felt as if he were pleading with his lover for reassurance._

_“I don’t know, love. All I know is that I wish you’d at least think about what I’ve just said. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you hurt.” Kirk sighed and released Spock’s hands. “I really have to go. I’ll call you after the ceremonies and we’ll talk about it then, okay?”_

_Spock nodded reluctantly. “Very well.” He hesitated. “You do trust me, do you not, Jim?”_

_“Of course, I do.”_

_“Then know that I have never thought to use this information.”_

_Kirk gazed at him for several seconds before drawing forward and covering Spock lips with his own. The kiss was deep, almost frantic, as they reconnected in this most elemental way. But it did not last long; just long enough to leave Spock breathless when his lover pulled away._

_Kirk quickly rose and started out. He stopped at the door and turned to wink at Spock. “I’ll be back before you know it.” With those parting words he let himself out, the door closing quietly behind him._

 

The sound of the tone from the front entrance pulled Spock from his reverie. He swung his legs off the bed and quickly stood, though he took the time to straighten the slightly disheveled covers. Whoever would inhabit this house next would find it as he had.

It was his supplies from the VSA. He signed for the delivery and once alone he immediately packed them safely aboard his ship. He was almost ready to go. There was only one thing remaining. Spock returned once more to the house and grabbed the picture of himself and Kirk from the study desk. He walked out without a backward glance. As the shuttle took flight he could see faint streaks of light attempting to chase away the night.

Later, as he sat at the controls of the ship, his destination only days away, he thought about that last conversation. His and Kirk’s relationship had been built on trust from the very beginning. It had lasted through the almost thirty years as, first fellow officers, then friends and, finally, lovers. The irony was not lost on him. Though neither would know it at the time, both their parting words had been a lie.

^^^^^

Spock felt the shudder run through the ship before the lights on his panel began flashing. He dropped into sublight, all the while scanning the readouts for some clue as to the problem.

He’d been lucky so far. After over a week of travel, this was the first time he’d had trouble of any consequence. He’d traversed the Beta Quadrant, flying from Romulus to Verdian III at a breakneck speed; and back again, as he made his way to Vulcan. From Vulcan, he’d taken a ninety-degree course change that would take him out of the Federation. He’d recently passed the Delta Triangle and was reaching the end of charted space.

Several systems were going off line, and the lights flickered a moment. The craft shuddered again, harder this time and veered slightly off course. He compensated for the change while continuing to trace the malfunction.

After several minutes, he finally narrowed it down to a faulty relay controlling the manifolds to the warp coil. Replacing the relay was easy enough, but he’d have to land in order to make sure there hadn’t been any permanent damage. Once the ship settled down, Spock started a search for a suitable planet to put down on.

He found it, tucked away from the myriad power structures that held this part of space. With no intelligent life, its thick vegetation and abundant water would prove an ideal setting for spending his last night in this existence.

The first suitable landing site was situated along the edge of a forest. With the shuttle nestled in a lush meadow, the trees acting as a windbreak, Spock was able to do a thorough check of the ship’s exterior. The planet’s moon had just crested the horizon when he reentered the shuttle and closed its door behind him.

His sleep that night was disturbed for the first time since starting along this path. Would Kirk understand? And if he did not, could he at least forgive? In his rush to do this, Spock had pushed aside such uncomfortable thoughts. He was fighting to regain who he had been, to eradicate the anger that had ruled his life for so long. Would he end up sacrificing love?

Kirk had never liked Spock’s research into the project that had been Kirk’s son’s downfall, and was unnerved by the hold it had on his bondmate. Spock’s avowal never to use it had been the one thing that had eased Kirk’s mind.

Spock turned on his side and tried to shut out the voice of his lover. Destructive? Yes, and could never be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. But it was not as if anyone would ever know. And the device had already been built. The only way to destroy it now was to use it. He had already erased all knowledge of it from the computer. He hadn’t dared leave it on Vulcan. Eventually, after enough years had passed, a family member would have breached the walls of the estate and found his work. That he could not allow.

Kirk had once called it an abomination. Perhaps. But if that were so, then so was Spock. He lived because of it. He would _live_ again because of it. There was no other way for him, for mere existence was no longer an option. If Kirk had never returned, Spock was sure that, in not too many more years, the rage inside would have eaten away at what was left of his heart. A cold husk is all that would have remained of the man he had been. He could not return to that; he would not.

No, Spock sat up and crossed his arms on his drawn up knees; he felt no qualms in what he planned to do. He would take the condemnation. It would be worth the price.

He threw the blanket aside and walked resolutely to the controls of the ship. He punched in his flight path and started the engines. There was no reason to delay. It would be done now.

The planetoid he had chosen was less than an hour away. Spock used the time to dress and double-check the controls on the device. He had to consciously damp down his excitement. Once ignited, it would take several hours before he could place the tube housing Kirk’s body on the newly sculpted planet. How appropriate that Picard had offered him the use of a photon case to carry Kirk back to Vulcan.

He reached his destination and entered into a shallow orbit. His ship no longer possessed any means of delivering the device other than by placing it directly on the surface. Spock had removed the photons and disengaged the weapon’s system, though had decided on keeping the phaser array, when he had first acquired the ship. And since the planetoid was pockmarked with craters, it took time to find a decent landing area. His perseverance paid off when he managed to settle the ship on a small plateau that rose above the battered surface. With a noticeable bump, the craft alighted.

Spock wasted no time. Though he could not fire the casing out, he could still release the tube’s opening. Its cover swung slowly open and the cargo gently slid onto the barren surface. Ninety years of work now sat on the airless planetoid, yet what Spock felt was mostly relief. After today, he would have no need to think of it again.

Once more in space, he set the controls. Being released on a solid object, the waves of energy would be absorbed as it did its work. There was no need to be light-years away. He settled in an orbit two point seven AUs from the planetoid and started the sequence of the Genesis device.

^^^^^

It was beautiful. He had watched the recording of the original detonation as the Mutara Nebula had coalesced into the Genesis planet, and thought it wondrous. The slow evolution of life had been painstakingly set down. In fits and starts, diverse climates had grown, fought for supremacy, and then collapsed. But this, this was the way the Marcuses had meant it to be. The barren planetoid, its sun in the last stages of life, had been reborn in a smooth flow of unbridled proliferation. It was unfortunate that its fecund surface would last only a short time; just long enough for his purposes.

It had taken two days, but as soon as the Genesis effect had fully overtaken the planet, Spock had landed the shuttle in a sheltered valley. He didn’t want to take the chance of the newly regenerated Kirk wandering off. The tube encasing his lover’s body now lay in the tall grass, though easily spotted from the windows of the shuttle. Now all Spock had to do was wait.

According to the notes Saavik had given him, Kirk’s body would take at least twenty standard hours to regenerate into its infantile state. At that point, he would have to be carefully monitored. The planet would not have much time left. There could be no margin for error. If Spock were to lose sight of his lover, all could be lost.

He passed the hours of night in silent meditation. Just before dawn, he approached the casing. The lid was still closed. His hand trembled as Spock hesitantly opened it.

He gasped. The young child within was awake, his eyes open. He stared at Spock with idle curiosity...and he was beautiful. Golden hair surrounded the perfectly formed face. Kirk’s eyes, large and expressive as an adult, dominated the child’s visage. And the body was small, no more than that of a four year old.

With gentle care, Spock lifted the child out of its supposed casket and carried him into the shuttle. He placed him on the bed and pulled the blanket up to cover the naked form. Kirk did not resist, and seemed willing enough to merely observe as Spock locked the ship up tight.

This would be the most difficult part. Saavik had informed him that he had suffered a great deal of pain as his body stretched and grew into adult form. He would have to watch as Kirk went through the same process. As far as Spock knew, there was no way to alleviate the pain. It could be dangerous to even try.

The first metamorphosis began within the hour. The small boy began to make sounds of distress. Confusion shone from the wide eyes as his body appeared to take on a life of its own. Spock hurried to his side and held him in his arms, trying to still the wild movements as the young Kirk cried out in agony. It seemed to go on forever, yet in reality only a few minutes would pass before the human in his arms slumped against his chest, exhausted.

With trepidation, Spock lowered the boy back onto the bed. It was still a boy, but one that now looked to be eight or nine years old.

It would happen again and again, almost like clockwork. Each stage would be more painful, wracking the terrified human. And each time Spock found it harder to restrain the rapidly growing male. This time, as the last throes of pain shuddered through him, Kirk lashed out, striking Spock on the face.

The pain that radiated from the site of the blow caused Spock to release his hold. Kirk fell unconscious onto the bed, Spock in an ungraceful heap on the floor. It felt like his jaw had been broken. He brought his hand up to his face. It was wet. Puzzled, he drew back his hand and found it slick with blood.

^^^^^

It had been folly to believe fate could be circumvented; madness to think they would finally be allowed a full and long life together. Spock watched the sleeping form and felt only sorrow; for Kirk, who would now have to deal with the loneliness and isolation that had been Spock’s lot for the last eighty years. And for himself, for the lost happiness that was now slipping though his grasp. Even his rage had abandoned him.

He stood and returned to the mirror. He didn’t understand why he continued to do so. His eyes could only verify what his body so readily proclaimed. He was dying.

How could he have overlooked this fatal flaw in his plans? Tied to the Genesis effect by his own rebirth, his re-exposure to its power had set off a change in his own body as well. His skin looked like onion paper and sloughed off at a touch. His hair was falling out in clumps and his entire body burned. Movement was becoming painful.

Spock slowly approached the bed and sat next to the human. Kirk looked slightly younger than he had when Spock first met him. And the further they traveled from the Genesis planet, the less he seemed to change. Unfortunately, Spock could not say the same for himself. All he asked at this point was to make it back to the planet he had left days before. If he could do that, all would not be lost.

As soon as he had realized what was happening, Spock had immediately powered up the shuttle and they had left the Genesis planet. That had been fifty minutes ago, yet the speed at which his body was deteriorating made the last ten minutes to their destination seem like an eternity.

With a shaking hand, Spock touched Kirk’s face. This new body would soon house his t’hy’la’s indomitable spirit. Kirk would live once more. As soon as they landed, Spock would release his lover’s katra back to him. It would be his dying gift to the man who had made his life worth living.

What would Kirk think? What would he do with this new life? Would he return to the Federation and a hero’s welcome? Or would he shun reminders of his former life? _Please, whatever he does, let him forgive me for leaving him once again._

They had spoken only once of Spock’s flight from his lover’s side at the end of the first five-year mission. It wasn’t something either cared to dwell upon. But what had stood out during the cathartic discourse that had followed their reconciliation was Kirk’s anger, an anger which had taken many months to cool. It had been difficult, once more together yet with the knot of rage that ate at Kirk still between them. Time, and Spock’s constant reinforcement of his love and commitment, had finally melted it away.

Yet, every so often over the years it reared its ugly head, whenever Kirk had cause to suspect Spock’s loyalty or continued respect. The Khitomer affair had been a prime example. And however illogical it would be to blame Spock for his own death, he understood humans enough to realize that logic rarely held sway in this regard. All Kirk might see was that Spock had left him once again.

Spock heard the quiet tone signaling their arrival and, with a last caress, rose and walked back to the controls. He sat down and began preparations for landing as the ship began its descent.

It was a simple maneuver that brought them gracefully to the surface and to a gentle landing in a wide meadow. But Spock could barely see as he stumbled from the pilot’s chair in an attempt to reach Kirk’s side. His eyes had clouded over and he had barely brought them down in time. That they were on the night side of the planet only made things worse. Spock felt his way across the cabin and into the bedroom until his hands lit upon the human’s body. He stretched out next to him on the bed and positioned his fingers on Kirk’s face, seeking out the meld points. His last thought was how lonely it felt as his lover’s consciousness flowed away from him and to its rightful place. Then there was only darkness.

^^^^^

Kirk opened his eyes. A hand lay limp and motionless on his face. He pushed it aside and sat up.

“Spock?” The body lying next to him was his lover. Of that, he was sure. Though the Vulcan’s face and hands were marred with dried blood, Kirk recognized the features below. What he wasn’t sure of was how he had gotten here. And how had Spock come to be with him?

“Spock?” He came up on his knees and leaned down to shake the still form. “Spock, wake up.” The lack of response galvanized him, and he grabbed the Vulcan’s shoulders and hauled him to a seated position. “Spock!”

The head fell listlessly forward and flakes of skin drizzled down around them. With desperation borne of fear, Kirk hauled back and backhanded his lover. “Damn it, Spock! Wake up!”

With a jerk, Spock’s body finally responded. He gasped and strained to take in a lung full of air.

“That’s it, lover. Keep breathing.” Kirk felt almost lightheaded with relief.

“Jim?” Spock’s eyes slowly opened, amazement quickly replacing the obvious happiness. “I can see.”

“Of course, you can see.” Kirk peered at the Vulcan. “You look different.”

Spock bought his hand to his face and wiped at the crust of skin and dried blood. It fell easily away. “Older, perhaps?”

“No, younger.”

“Younger?” Spock quickly rose, leaving a perplexed Kirk. He approached the mirror and stood there for long minutes.

Realizing no explanation would be forthcoming, Kirk crawled off the bed and walked over to Spock’s side.

The Vulcan was slowly carding his fingers through his thick, black cap of hair. “I do not understand.”

“You look so young,” Kirk responded, awed at the change. Spock looked as young as when they first had become lovers.

Spock smiled and finally looked at Kirk. “As do you.”

“What?” Kirk frowned and pushed Spock aside to place himself directly in front of the mirror. His eyes widened. He was young! It could be the day he had taken command of the _Enterprise._ He ran his hands down his body. Firm muscles and smooth skin met his touch. He pulled his gaze away from the image before him and looked at Spock. “You need to tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I am not totally sure.” Spock took Kirk’s arm and led him back to the bed. “Sit. It is a very long story.”

“Okay,” Kirk agreed as he scooted back against the wall. “But only if you remove your clothes. It’s not fair, me sitting here in the all-together while you’re covered up. I want to see you, all of you.”

Without answering, Spock quickly removed his garments and took his place on the bed. He did manage to drape a blanket over his shoulders, though he stretched his long legs out in front of Kirk. With a grin, Kirk moved over to sit next to him and entrapped Spock’s legs with his own. “Much better. All right, start from the beginning.”

“What do you last remember?” Spock asked.

Kirk thought a moment and the humor went out of his eyes. “Dying. I remember dying.”

“On Veridian III. Is that your last memory?” Spock spoke in quiet tones, as if wary of Kirk’s reaction.

“I...I seem to remember you calling me.” He looked up into his lover’s face. “You weren’t there, yet you were.”

“Yes. As you lay dying, your katra came to me. We joined.”

“Like you and McCoy.”

“That is correct. The strength of our bond allowed me to reach you and take your katra into me though we were not touching.”

“That’s amazing. But if I died, where did—” Kirk grabbed Spock’s arm. “The Genesis device, you used it, didn’t you? You used it!”

Spock looked down at his hands clasped together in his lap. “Yes.”

“You promised me you never would! How could you do it, Spock? How could you?” Kirk was so angry he could hardly see straight and was taken completely by surprise when Spock pushed him away and rose from the bed. The Vulcan was half way across the cabin before Kirk found his voice. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? I want answers, Mister. And I want them right now!”

Spock abruptly stopped and turned slowly around. His features were set in a stony mask of unconcealed rage. “You do not know what I went through, all those years you were gone. For you, mere days have passed since last we were together. But for me, it has been a lifetime.”

“Spock, I—”

“I was alone!” He shuddered and took a deep breath. “So alone, Jim. You cannot imagine how it was. My mother, and then you...and then Sarek. But especially you. I could have borne their loss if you had still been there, but I could not bear the aloneness without you. There was none who knew me, truly _knew_ me. And my mind,” he spread his arms in helpless supplication, “was empty. It was a shell being slowly filled with anger and despair. I am a Vulcan. And half my soul had been ripped away. You cannot possible comprehend what that did to me.”

Kirk watched as his lover fought to bring himself under control. He had never seen the Vulcan so vulnerable. “Please, don’t let us do this to each other. Please, come sit down.”

Spock dropped his arms and swallowed hard before hesitantly returning to the bed. He sat against the headboard and pulled the blanket up like a shield. “I believed you would be angry with me, though I hoped otherwise. But I also hoped that you would give me the opportunity to explain before condemning me outright.”

Kirk took a deep breath. Spock was right. He _didn’t_ know what his lover had gone through, alone all those years. How would _he_ have reacted to such a situation? “I’m sorry. I guess that hasn’t change, has it? I’ve always been one to fly off the handle.” He smiled, trying to lighten the situation. “But I’ve always listened to you, haven’t I? Even if I didn’t always agree with what you had to say?”

Spock nodded wordlessly.

“Then, I’ll listen now.” Kirk sat next to the Vulcan, his legs folded. “Go ahead.”

It _was_ a long story. Spock took him through the lonely years, from the horrifying moment their bond had violently shut down seventy-eight years earlier, leaving Spock incapacitated for days, to the glorious moment, a little over a week before, when it had just as suddenly reactivated.

He told Kirk of his return to Vulcan after Kirk’s memorial service. Spock had sold their home on Earth, unable to imagine himself living there without Kirk. Yet, life on Vulcan had not been much better. The rift with his father had never healed, and years, and then decades, would pass in a quiet desperation.

His research on the Genesis device had, oddly, helped to keep him sane. The intricacies of its design had fascinated him. The fact that it was the reason for his own existence only wet his curiosity all the more. And it was a link to Kirk. David Marcus may have been a son practically in name only, but a son, nevertheless.

And then there was the flight to Romulus, and his doomed attempt at reunifying that lost tribe of Vulcan. He related to Kirk his own meeting with Picard, and the meld that would help ease, a little, his father’s loss. It had not soothed the hurt of Amanda’s death. Sarek’s thoughts had not been there, only the essence of his love for his wife and son and the strong reverberations of his passing. But it had gone a ways in healing the deep wounds of what Spock saw as his father’s abandonment of his mother.

Finally, there was Spock’s exile on Mizar Two. As close as he had ever come to happiness after Kirk’s disappearance, it had been there. Yet, he had forsaken it without a second thought when he had felt the stirrings of their bond and Kirk’s need of him.

“And then you came for me,” Kirk whispered huskily.

“Then I came for you,” Spock repeated. “I knew you were dying. I was so afraid I would be unable to join us. You were so far away.”

“Like Sarek and your mother?”

Spock looked away, and then Kirk saw a tear slide unhindered down the Vulcan’s cheek.

“Spock?” Kirk reached out and pulled his lover into his arms, moving his body so that they were lying against each other. “What is it?”

Spock hugged him back, hard. “I condemned him for something he was unable to prevent. And when he sought to find happiness again, I condemned him all the more. How could he take another, be content with another, when the very thought of replacing you in my life with anathema? I did not understand and refused to try.”

“Maybe all he was was content.” Kirk’s hand had instinctively found its way to Spock’s hair, and he lightly drew his fingers through the silky growth. “He had lost your mother completely. There was no hope of ever getting her back. It wasn’t the same as with you and me.”

“He did not believe you lived. He thought I was clinging to something that no longer existed. It was...difficult.”

“I can’t even imagine it, Spock. I don’t even want to think about how I would deal with losing you again.”

“I believed you would have to,” the Vulcan quietly noted.

Kirk frowned and placed his hand under Spock’s chin, forcing him to look up. “What do you mean?”

“I believed I was dying when we left the Genesis planet. I still do not understand why I did not.”

“Why did you think you were dying?”

“The device’s effect had me in its grip as well. My body is as much a construct of its power as yours is. When I reentered its sphere of influence, it seemed to start where it had left off the last time.”

“You thought you were getting older,” Kirk surmised.

“Correct. Apparently, this time, the effect was to reverse the process.”

Kirk smiled and ran his hand down Spock’s naked torso, conveniently coming to rest on the Vulcan’s buttocks. “Mmm, well I have to say, I really appreciate where it left off.”

“As do I.” Spock rose a bit higher and lightly pressed his lips to Kirk’s.

A surge of desire overwhelmed Kirk. He had always loved Spock, but lust had played a big part in their relationship, too. He had never had enough of the lean, powerful body pressed to his. He tugged at the blanket that lay between them, and with Spock’s help managed to get them entangled in each other’s arms, their bodies pressed tightly together.

Spock buried his head into the hollow of Kirk’s neck. “I have missed you so very much, t’hy’la.”

“I know.” Kirk felt his eyes water and his throat tighten. “But we have so many years now. The rest of our lives.”

The Vulcan brought his head up and studied Kirk for a moment. “You are here, and I am almost afraid to let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

Kirk halted any further words with a kiss. He plunged into the heat that was his lover, their tongues intertwining as each tasted of the other. He felt Spock’s hands, large and strong, fondle his ass, the fingers pressing into his flesh and skimming over the opening to his body.

Kirk insinuated his hand between their bodies to search out the hot Vulcan cock that pressed against his abdomen. He began to slowly pump the engorged organ, reveling in the way Spock moaned into his mouth. He pulled away to grab a lung full of air. “Do you like that, love? Does it feel good?”

Spock didn’t answer. But the hands on his ass tightened as Spock’s hips pushed harder and faster against his body. With a last squeeze on his lover’s cock, Kirk let go and brought his arms tightly around the Vulcan’s waist.

He could feel his shaft slide against Spock’s, drops of precum slicking their cocks as they rocked against each other. It brought back memories of their beginning, when, as two young men, they had found in each other a desire that equaled their own.

“Dear god, yes. Like that, yes.” His world became the beloved man in his arms, the heavy sex of his lover nestled against his own and the deep voice that whispered his name over and over again.

Then the Vulcan’s mouth was on his neck, biting, sucking, as if he wanted to eat Kirk alive. Shudders ran through the lean body and Kirk knew his lover was ready to come.

He heard Spock give a deep moan and then felt the heated liquid burst from the Vulcan’s cock. Kirk pumped once, twice more against his lover’s semen-coated belly and gave himself up to the throes of orgasm.

They held each other for long minutes, until the heat of their bodies drove them apart. Kirk got up to find a towel while Spock readjusted the covers. When he returned, he climbed into the Vulcan’s waiting arms.

At first, Spock held him loosely. But as the minutes passed, his hold tightened, until finally he was clinging fiercely to Kirk. Kirk heard him gasp, and then great, wracking sobs shook the Vulcan. All Kirk could do was whisper words of succor to the man in his arms and ride out the storm.

He had never seen Spock like this. Oh, there had been tears over the years. As much joy as there had been in their lives, they had had their share of sorrow. But not like this. Not this emotional catharsis that, once finally over, left Spock weakly clinging to him.

“Are you all right, now?” Kirk asked.

“I believe so.” Spock’s voice was rough with fatigue. “I apologize for my loss of control.”

“The cause was sufficient, I think.” Kirk pressed a kiss to Spock’s brow. “You sound like you could use some sleep, though.”

“Perhaps you are right. I find my energy quite depleted.”

They settled in, Kirk rearranging the blankets so that Spock was adequately covered. He lowered the lights, and the only sound was the hush of wind from outside. He thought Spock was asleep when the Vulcan spoke.

“I am almost afraid to fall asleep.”

“Why?” Kirk began playing with the soft hairs on Spock’s chest.

“I fear waking up alone,” Spock answered huskily.

“I’m here, Spock. And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Spock was silent for a moment. “It was night on Vulcan when you...disappeared. I woke to a feeling of such aloneness. Your place in my mind was empty. And though I believed you still lived, I did not know where to find you.”

“Oh, Spock.” Kirk heard the threat of still more tears in Spock’s voice. “I wish I had known how easy it was to get out of the Nexus. Instead, I wasted all those years lost in a bizarre dream of my own making.”

“You were not happy?”

Kirk sighed. “I don’t know what I was, to tell the truth. Time didn’t flow in a straight line. I could be any age, at any place I happened to think of. Yet all I had to do was think of something else and everything would change.”

“Jim, may I ask you something?”

Kirk came up on an elbow. “Anything.”

“Who is Antonia?”

Kirk blushed, and his eyes studiously avoided Spock’s.

“Jim?”

“You don’t remember.”

Spock cocked his head and then his eyes lit up. “Our neighbor. She lived on the floor above ours.”

“That’s right.”

“But in your mind, I saw a recent image of her. A feeling...” Spock frowned.

“It wasn’t real. Nothing was real there.” Kirk closed his eyes on the pain that thought brought.

“Was she not married?”

He grimaced and opened his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what made her safe.”

“I do not understand.”

“The Nexus is a strange place. Whatever you want you can have. But the feelings aren’t there. It didn’t matter that I didn’t love her. Just like it didn’t matter that I no longer loved Carol Marcus, either. It was all fantasy.”

Darkness stirred in Spock’s eyes. “You did not dream of me.”

“I couldn’t. It hurt too much.” Kirk rubbed his temple as he groped for the words that would make this right. “Nothing there _mattered_ , Spock. The one and only time I dared think of you, I couldn’t retain the fantasy. I knew it wasn’t really you, somehow. And I felt like I was dying inside.” He grabbed at the Vulcan’s shoulder and laid his head on his lover’s chest. I couldn’t _touch_ you, couldn’t feel you in my mind.”

He felt Spock’s hand settle on his head and the long fingers gentled into his hair. “I believe I understand. It was very difficult to think of our time together while you were gone. It did not bring the joy it should have. Only despair.”

Kirk brought his head up, caught between hope and anguish. “Then you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Spock lowered his hand to Kirk’s neck and pulled him closer. “You are here, and you can touch me now.”

It would be a long night. And Kirk liked that just fine.

 

^^^^^

“Where do you wish to go?” Spock asked. They sat outside the shuttle watching the stars and enjoying the warmth cast by a large fire. They had rolled over two large logs and positioned them as seating.

“I’m not sure.” Kirk threw the piece of kindling he’d been toying with into the fire. It’s nice here.”

They had been on the planet for five days. Much of it had been spent exploring the surrounding area...and each other. It was a gift, this returned youth, that neither seemed to be able to fully absorb. But Spock knew it was not enough. “You will eventually grow bored.”

Kirk grinned. “You’re probably right. But it could be our home base.”

“That is a possibility. We are far from any of the political entities that might consider it their property.”

“There you go. Finders keepers.”

Spock thought over that particularly ridiculous idiom but decided not to comment on it. Instead, he turned the conversation back to his original question. “If this is to be our home base, where, exactly, is it a home base from?”

“What’s that way?” Kirk pointed to the heavens behind him.

“Uncharted space.”

“That no one’s claimed?”

Spock nodded. “From this point on, it is unknown territory.”

“We could check it out, see what’s out there.”

“You do not wish to return to the Federation?”

Kirk mulled over the question for a few minutes. Finally, he shook his head. “No. I think I’d feel like a museum piece. And I’d have to learn everything all over again.”

“You are an intelligent man, Jim. It would not prove difficult,” Spock chided.

“It’s not just that.” The human looked down at his feet. “They’d find out what happened and who I am.”

“They would remember a man of sixty. Not the youth of thirty.”

“But they’d remember you. You show up with someone that looks exactly like your long-lost lover and they’d either think I was some sort of pathetic substitute, or they’d figure out it was the real me. No, maybe someday, years from now when they’ve forgotten both of us, but not right now.” He looked up at Spock. “Is that all right with you?”

“I find that agreeable. When would we leave to find out ‘what’s out there’?”

“What’s wrong with tomorrow? We have plenty of supplies.” Kirk had been relieved to learn the planet had food and water in abundance.

“If that is what you wish.”

“Are you sure, Spock? I don’t want you to go along just to humor me, not if it’s not what you really want to do.”

“I do not care where we go. As long as I am with you, I am content.”

The smile that greeted his pronouncement was worth more than anything the Federation could ever offer. For so long he’d sleepwalked through the days; the nights, and the dreams of Kirk, the only relief from his misery. The anger that had dominated his life for so long was gone. Joy had returned. They had all the time in the world now, and he looked forward to the dawn.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> \+ “Farewell to the Master” by Harry Bates 1940


End file.
